How I Used To Think About You And How I Think About You Now


It used to be that when I thought of you, I thought of home. Thoughts of you brought with them comfort, calm, and peace. I won’t say it’s been easy. You and I were never easy. But when I thought of you, I always thought of home.

It used to be that thinking of our first couple of months made me smile. Sure, we had our bumps, even from day one. Neither of us really drink, but the night I fell in love with you I had downed a double bottle of Sutter Home, and you were drunk off of two 3% beers. You spent the night telling me about your past loves. And your present loves. While you were telling me about how you were pining away over them, I was staring at your eyelashes, and admiring how cute and small your teeth were. You were telling me that you wished they loved you back, but I wasn’t really listening because I was too busy wishing the same about you.

It used to be that the memory of our first kiss would make me laugh out loud. It was like a scene from a movie. You’d started spending your nights sleeping in my bed, though it wasn’t something we ever spoke about or admitted. We were lying on my bed at 2am, talking about nothing and everything. When we both sat up at the same time, our foreheads slammed together with a loud crack, and as fell back onto the bed clutching my head in pain, I suddenly realized that your lips were on mine. It was awkward and perfect and everything I wanted it to me. I remember thinking that I never wanted my heart to stop fluttering like it was that night.

That was how it used to be. But let me tell you how it is now.

Now, when I remember our first kiss, I think about the fact that the next day you told that other girl that I kissed you, and you were so embarrassed and didn’t know how to let me down easy. I think about how I spent the whole next day with a stupid grin slapped on my face, while you pretended it never happened. I think about the next night when you came over drunk and told me that you could never be sexually attracted to anyone like me, and then proceeded to hook up with me and pass out on my bed.

Now, when I think back on our first couple of months together, I think about lies. I think of all the wonderful and kind things you said to my face, and all of the terrible things you said behind my back. I think of when you begged me to move in with you, while telling people that I forced you to let me live there so that I could keep tabs on you. I think about how you asked me to wait for four months while you tried to figure out whether you were still in love with your ex. I think about how you insisted on keeping me a secret. How I was always, and will always be, a secret not worth telling.

When I think of you now, I see black. Thoughts of you now bring with them pain, and betrayal, and anger, and loathing. It used to be that you were home, and I was safe and protected in your embrace. Now, you are quicksand pulling me down into your depths, and I am fighting for my life to break free.